


Today's Forecast...Ice With a Chance of Heat

by JHsgf82



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: AU, Banter/snarky humor, Coworkers to lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Everlark as co-anchors, F/M, Fluff, Romance, mentions of childhood disease and disability, news anchor!Peeta, weather girl!Katniss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHsgf82/pseuds/JHsgf82
Summary: Katniss Everdeen, Channel 12 News's new Weather Forecaster, has two problems with her job: the crazy costumes she's forced to dress up in and her sworn enemy, hotshot news anchor, Peeta Mellark.  Will Katniss be stuck wearing ridiculous outfits on-air, or will the rising star of the television fashion world legitimize her?  As for Peeta Mellark, he may have charm and good looks, and her sister may be his biggest fan, but Katniss refuses to fall for him...Written for Seasons of Everlark on Tumblr, Autumn edition.Prompt:  Peeta is smug popular anchorman; Katniss new weather girl forced to cheerfully wear holiday clothes/costumes for Halloween through thanksgiving. (Other characters who make katniss miserable? Cato on sports? Glimmer as Girl on the Street interviewer? Delly’s cooking corner?) {Submitted by 567inpanem}
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 62
Collections: Seasons of Everlark— Fall 2020, SoE: Autumn 2020





	Today's Forecast...Ice With a Chance of Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to eiramrelyat for betaing and 567inpanem for the prompt. I had a lot of fun with it! The prompt very closely aligned with a fic I'd been wanting to write, and here it is! The first chapter is based on the prompt (and is basically a one-shot in and of itself), but from there, it will continue and spin-off into the original story I'd planned. Cover photo edit by mrspeetamellark. Autographed photo edit by rosegardeninwinter. Thank you!

Katniss rifled through her closet, searching for the perfect outfit to wear to her interview tomorrow. She thought it ridiculous that she’d been asked to bring seasonal changes of clothes, in addition to the already challenging task of choosing the right interview attire, but that’s what the job description called for.

As she didn’t have much variety in her closet, mainly dark or earthy colors, she’d gone shopping, and her beloved little sister, Primrose, had tagged along for support and opinions. Katniss had gone for basic, conservative, dignified. No way was she dressing up like a witch or a fat Thanksgiving turkey. If that was the deciding factor on whether or not she got the job, maybe she didn’t want it...

But she did. Or, more accurately, she needed it.

Therefore, she’d go along with the station’s little game and dress the way they wanted her to. Of course, she had no idea how that was, so she’d have to wing it.

For autumn, Katniss had chosen a couple of reasonably-priced (as Prim wouldn’t let her shop at the thrift store because that wasn’t good enough for TV) sweaters and pants suits in shades of brown and golden orange‒harvest colors. The orange was Prim’s idea. Her sister had even browbeaten her into purchasing several pencil skirts and an orange dress. The orange dress had hugged her curves a bit more than she liked but wasn’t overly tight or revealing, so she’d bought it, along with a black blazer to cover up the skin exposed by the scoop neckline.

While still trying to decide, Katniss’s ears pricked, picking up on the unmistakable gait of her sister. She turned to see a blonde head poking through the doorway.

“Need any help?” Prim asked cheerily.

“Well, maybe...” Katniss’s eyes drifted down to Prim’s left leg, and she noticed she was wearing her brace this afternoon. “Are you sore?” she asked, concerned.

“Not too much. Was earlier, but it’s better now. Just keeping it on for extra support.” Prim shuffled into the room and began heading for Katniss’s bed. Instinctively, Katniss reached out to take her thin, pale arm, but Prim waved her off. “I got it. I need to do it on my own.”

Katniss nodded. Prim was right. Her little sister was not an invalid (as she had once informed her). She was a girl with a very serious disease and a lot of pride, just as much as she, but she knew her limitations. Katniss was always making that mistake with Prim, trying to help too much. She should be better about respecting her desire for more independence.

Prim made it to the bed and slowly lowered herself down while Katniss remained on alert (just in case), pretending to be focused on a shirt in her closet. When she was sure Prim was safely settled on the edge of the bed with her hands tucked onto her lap, Katniss pulled out a couple of choices for Prim.

“Which one?”

“Hmm, black or gray...pretty boring,” noted Prim. Katniss frowned. “How about a little color? Ooh, what about blue? Might go well with your eyes.”

Blue and silver, possibly. She did own one silky, navy blue shirt. It had previously been the sexiest thing in her closet, which wasn’t saying much, and she had worn it on a couple of dates. Katniss felt kind of weird wearing her date shirt for an interview, but it might couple well with black pants and the new black blazer.

She pulled both out and held them up. “Do we have a winner?”

“Mm…” Prim twisted her lips in disapproval. “Know what I think?”

Katniss was almost afraid to ask, for Prim had that impish grin on her lips. “What?”

“I think you should wear the orange dress we picked out.”

Turning back to her closet, Katniss exhaled. The orange dress. She’d practically buried it, fully intending on never wearing it. But for Prim, she would. She’d do just about anything for Prim. Shoving aside a chunk of clothing on hangers, Katniss removed the dress.

“This the one?” Of course, it was. It was the only orange dress in her possession.

“That’s the one,” chirped Prim. “Try it on again.”

Katniss stepped into her bathroom and changed into the dress. When she came back out, Prim whistled and started clapping. “You look so hot!”

“Primrose!” Katniss chided. “I don’t want to look hot. That’s not the intent here. I’m going on an interview, not a date.”

“Well, why can’t it work for both? Maybe you’ll meet a hot guy at work like...ohh!” With a small squeal of delight, Prim brought both hands up to cover her mouth.

“Maybe you’ll go on a date with...with...him!”

Katniss knew exactly who the ‘him’ was Prim was referring to. Peeta Mellark. Prim had had a crush on the head anchorman of Channel 12 for the past two years.

Katniss placed a hand on her hip. “Prim, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not going to start dating your idol.”

“Well, maybe not _dating_ him, but you’ll know him and get to work with him and...oh!” she shrieked. “I can’t believe you’re gonna work for Channel 12 News!”

Channel 12 was Prim’s favorite TV station. She was an avid watcher of the news and the other segments presented by that team; although, she didn’t care for Cato on sports.

“Not necessarily, Prim. It’s just an interview.” The hiring committee had to like her, and Katniss wasn’t exactly good at getting people to like her.

“You’re gonna get it; I know you are!” encouraged Prim. “You’re so smart, Katniss, and you know so much about meteorology!”

“Thanks, Prim.”

It was true she knew a lot about the science of weather; she had studied physics and atmospheric science in college. But that didn’t mean she’d land such a high-profile job as the local weather forecaster for a TV station.

Katniss had never been on TV in her life, and she had no interest in it. If it was up to her, she’d be conducting meteorological experiments and tracking storms out of the back of a truck with her small former group, the Mockingjays. But there wasn’t much money in that, not like television. She wouldn’t even care about the money if not for Prim. Prim (and her medical bills) was the only reason she’d applied for the job.

“And you know...it’s not so unheard of...you and him.” Prim got all red-faced and squirmy. She couldn’t even say Peeta Mellark’s name without getting that way. “I mean, sometimes when people work together, they‒”

“What have you been reading, Prim?” Katniss cut her off.

“Nothing! I was just thinking...,” her little sister began tentatively, “well, he’s always hot, and now you look hot, too, so…”

“Prim.”

“Okay, okay, I know.” Prim held up her hands in defeat. “Sorry, got carried away.”

“I’d say so.”

“But...can I ask you one teensy favor?” Prim batted her eyelashes at Katniss, and Katniss raised a questioning brow. “Can you...do you think you can get his autograph for me, Katniss? Pleeeease?”

“His autograph?” Prim bobbed her head up and down.

Katniss sighed. That sounded like a huge favor. But what was she to say?

“I can try. But why him, Prim?”

Alright, so maybe Katniss understood. With the hair and the smile, those teeth...not quite as white as game show host Caesar Flickerman’s, more natural, but still perfectly white. It was probably the lighting, she deduced. Either that or whitening strips. With his money, he might even have his own personal dentist waiting in the wings just to make sure his teeth sparkled for the camera.

Wait, why the hell was she so fixated on Peeta Mellark’s teeth?

Then there was his sense of style. Most women appreciated a well-dressed man, but it was a little much for Katniss. She didn’t like her guys all GQ’ed up all the time. She preferred a guy more down-to-earth, one she could take to the woods or hang around in dumpy clothes and watch movies with. She wanted a guy she could just be with, and who would leave her be. She also wanted someone she could rely on, and a guy like Peeta Mellark would be far too easy to lose.

All those aforementioned qualities combined with his stocky build, dimples, and that ridiculous cleft chin were enough to make women swoon, but not her. And she was giving entirely too much thought to Peeta-freaking-Mellark’s looks.

She hadn’t even taken into account his success, which alone was enough to make women fall at his feet.

Katniss returned her attention to her sister.

“It’s not just that he’s handsome and charming and has a commanding yet gentle speaking voice,” explained Prim, her eyes glazing over dreamily.

“What else?” Katniss was genuinely curious.

“Well, I read about him. He seems like a great guy, and besides that, he...he has a prosthetic leg.”

 _Oh_.

“Yeah, so I kind of feel...I don’t know, connected to him in a way.” Prim pressed her lips together wistfully. “I know he’s not the same as me, and I know missing a leg has nothing to do with reporting the news, but he’s kind of inspiring to me. He has a disability, but he’s still so successful. He doesn’t act any differently or let it stand in his way. I hear he even gets involved in sports and marathons and stuff.”

Katniss smiled. “I understand, Prim. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you!” Prim reached out with grabby hands like a small child, and Katniss leaned down to wrap her arms around her.

It was touching that her sister had a hero, and he did sound good on paper. Katniss only hoped he lived up to her sister’s esteem. So often the image we have of people in our heads isn’t at all accurate.

_Don’t let him be a jerk..._

* * *

The next morning, Katniss readied for her interview. She showered, braided her hair, and dressed, all the while saying a little mantra in her head to keep herself calm: You got this. You’re going to do great. You’re doing this for Prim. She then presented herself for final inspection by Prim.

Prim appraised her in the orange dress, giving a wide smile and two thumbs up. She did, however, try to get her to leave the blazer, but Katniss wouldn’t do it. She felt it added a level of professionalism. Plus, it was October and chilly out.

“At least pop a button or two.”

“Primrose, I’m not trying to give away the farm!”

“Oh...Katniss...I…,” she choked out amidst laughter, “I really have no idea what that means! You’re such an old soul!”

Katniss smirked.

“Oh, but I’m so excited and nervous for you!” squealed Prim.

“Don’t make me more nervous.”

“Sorry! Oh, no,” she shook her head, “don’t be nervous. Let me take all your nerves for the day, okay?”

Katniss gave her a warm smile. “That’s sweet of you. Well…I better be going.” She went to Prim, placed two hands on each side of her face, and kissed her on the head.”

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Prim called out as Katniss turned to go. She began scooching toward the edge of her bed.

“No, Prim, don’t get up. Tell me what you need.”

Prim sighed but accepted the help this time. “My dresser.” She pointed. “Grandma’s pin.”

Katniss walked over to the dresser and removed the golden bird pin‒a treasured family heirloom, which their grandmother had passed down to Prim‒from its resting place, stuck into a knitted duck pin cushion. She took it to Prim, who beckoned for her to bend down.

“And now, for the pièce de résistance,” said Prim, fastening the bird pin to the lapel of Katniss’s blazer.

Once it was attached, Katniss pinched it between her fingers, surveying it. “But it’s yours.” She looked down into Prim’s blue eyes.

“I want you to wear it today. For luck. You can wear the leaf one next time and the pumpkin and black cat ones for Halloween.”

Katniss agreed and thanked her. “And now, I really do have to go.”

“Knock ‘em dead,” shouted Prim as Katniss headed for the door. She grabbed her messenger bag and her green peacoat and waved on the way out.

* * *

Katniss had decided to take the train to the television station. Fortunately, it had been right on time, and she’d arrived earlier than expected. But after walking the extra block-and-a-half, her feet were aching in the heels Prim had insisted she wear‒because dresses don’t look good with flats. She could only hope numbness would set in and dull the pain long enough for her to make it through the interview and get home. The second she was in the door, she was kicking off the shoes and getting into a t-shirt, her comfy sweats, and slippers.

She raised her eyes to the huge Channel 12 logo on the building, then headed inside. After signing in as a visitor, she took a look around the ground floor. The lobby was large and immaculate, and in plain sight was a coffee cart. Perfect. She made her way over.

As she was perusing the list of options, she caught a flash of golden hair and turned her head. It was him‒Peeta Mellark.

He’d just stepped into the building in one of those designer suits of his, a blue-gray one. She watched him greet the attendant in a chipper fashion, and then he looked over.

Oh great, he saw her looking‒more like staring‒at him.

She hadn’t intended to stare, but she’d been blindsided. Of course, she’d expected to see him today, but she hadn’t been prepared.

And now he was heading over…

Surely, he just wanted coffee. There was no intent relating to her, even though she had been caught staring, and even though he had flashed her what looked to be a purposeful smile. And did she imagine it, or did he also wink? No way. Guys don’t actually do things like that.

But maybe Peeta Mellark did.

Katniss tried to be nonchalant as she placed her order for a small pumpkin spice latte, even with Peeta Mellark looming behind her. If he did speak to her, this could be the opportunity to ask for his autograph for Prim; however, maybe she should wait and get to know him a little before demanding his John Hancock.

“Hello,” she heard him say in a smooth tone.

She tossed a casual hi back over her shoulder.

“New to the building?”

“Mm.” She gave the bare minimum response, for she didn’t like small talk, and her tongue suddenly felt thicker in her mouth.

“Why don’t you let me get that?” offered Peeta Mellark.

“No, thanks. I have...,” she checked the total on the screen, “$3.60.”

She saw him tuck his hands into the pockets of his expensive-looking suit pants. “Well, I wasn’t offering because I think you can’t afford it.”

“Then why were you?” She made the mistake of turning around then, and she was slammed by how attractive he was up close. His hair was a little curly, she noticed, and his eyes...so blue.

Hands still in pockets, Peeta shrugged. “To be nice.”

“Why would you be nice to a total stranger?”

He seemed momentarily at a loss, but he quickly recovered. “I’m a friendly guy.” He grinned, and this time there was no mistaking the wink he gave her.

Those eyes, what shade were they? Cobalt, azure, cerulean, indigo? Damn it. Why was she so fixated on the color of his eyes?!

“Are you friendly with everyone you meet?” she hedged. Or just women? She wanted to say the latter part, although he’d been friendly enough with the male guard at the door.

“For the most part, yes.” He flashed her that pearly set of teeth she’d seen so often on TV.

Right then, Katniss sized Peeta Mellark up. Basically, he was good-looking and aware of it. That was the worst kind of man for Katniss. Not that she preferred insecure guys, but she didn’t like them quite so self-assured as Peeta Mellark was. She liked them capable but humble.

“Where are my manners?” Katniss one-arm shrugged at his rhetorical question. “I’m Peeta Mellark.” He extended his hand to her.

“Yes, I know,” she said, reluctantly sticking hers out. He wrapped it securely within his warm grasp, using both large hands, and Katniss’s traitorous heart stuttered.

It seemed like Peeta wanted her to offer her name, but she didn’t. Just then, he cleared his throat, tilting his head toward the barista, who was waiting on her. Katniss withdrew her hand, took out her wallet, and paid the man. And she stepped aside so Peeta could place his order: English breakfast tea, no sugar.

Afterward, Peeta moved to stand next to her, closer than she’d like but not so close to justify moving over. She folded her arms, and they stood in silence for a minute or so. The whole time, she sensed he was evaluating her like one of those snooty art critics.

“You know, miss, that color you’re wearing,” he finally spoke, “it’s not far off from my favorite.” He gave her a broad smile, and Katniss swore she felt her throat closing off.

What was this effect he had?

Tipping her chin, she said, “It wasn’t my pick.”

“Well, your husband has good taste.”

“No husband.” _Damn it_. Why did she tell him that?

“Boyfriend?” He quirked a brow.

She shook her head. “My sister, Prim.”

_Stop giving him information!_

“Kudos to Prim, then.” The corners of his lips twitched. “So, is your sister as lovely as you?”

No way he just said that.

“Lovelier,” she said, keeping her cool. “Much.”

“That’s hard to imagine,” flirted Peeta.

“Don’t strain yourself trying.” She was being snarky, more like incredibly rude, but Peeta Mellark was incorrigible. He couldn’t mean all these things he was saying; he was simply a predator on the hunt for easy prey.

“Pumpkin spice,” called out the barista, and Katniss practically lunged for it.

Unfortunately, in her rush to grab the latte and hightail it out of there, her messenger bag slid off her arm and dropped. She hadn’t snapped the flap, so it came open, the contents spilling out across the floor. She dropped to her knees and began shoving things back in.

In seconds, Peeta Mellark was right beside her, eager to help, which would have been nice if not for…

“Here, I think you dropped your…” He did a double-take at the item in his hands. “...picture of me…”

Her face must’ve been beet red, and she couldn’t hold his gaze. Of all the humiliating…!

Prim, how could you do this to me? She must have snuck the photo in. Katniss had planned on good old paper and pen, but apparently, Prim had other ideas. Of course, her baby sister couldn't be blamed for her klutziness.

When she finally chanced a glance at Peeta, he had a shit-eating grin on his face. He held up the black-and-white, model-type shot of himself, the one Prim said he looked like a stud in (she concurred). “Miss, do you always carry a picture of me around with you?”

Katniss dragged both hands down her face, shaking her head rapidly. “No, I‒!”

Just tell him the truth, idiot‒that your younger sister is a fan of his and begged you to get his autograph, and even though you felt ridiculous about it, you agreed to do it because you love your sister.

Peeta had placed the photo alongside his face. “Do you think this is a good likeness of me?”

Katniss scowled. The arrogant jackass was loving this way too much.

What was with men like him, anyway? The ones with good looks, fancy clothes, and no doubt, expensive dental work, they were all the same. Katniss was finally beginning to understand her friend Johanna’s mindset.

Johanna called it the asshole gene. Her theory was: the better looking the man and the more successful, the bigger the asshole he is. She said it wasn’t something guys were necessarily born with but that developed over time, and she believed there to be direct correlations between looks, success, money, and...asshole-ness.

Granted, the things Prim said about Peeta Mellark had stuck with Katniss. She’d felt inclined to believe Prim, but with the real Peeta Mellark staring her in the face, she was quickly forming her own opinion. And it was not in his favor.

Katniss snatched Prim’s picture of Peeta from his hands. “It’s not mine, okay.” And she blurted out the story.

After, Peeta Mellark nodded. “I’d be glad to sign it for Prim.”

“Never mind,” said Katniss, averting her eyes and shoving the photo back in her messenger bag. She cursed herself for flubbing up this chance for Prim, but she just couldn’t do it right now.

“Alright. So, I know your sister’s name, but I never got yours. You are…?”

“I’m…” Cautiously, she met his eyes, and in the process, she saw her watch. “...Running late!” She shot right up and took off, her heels clattering against the concrete floor. It didn’t take long to realize she was a bit lost. She turned her head left from side to side, trying to locate the damn elevator, or a sign.

“Miss, excuse me,” Peeta was calling out from behind her. In her confusion, and probably because his legs were longer than hers, he’d caught up. She didn’t stop, but he easily kept pace with her. After all, what was the challenge of walking in comfortable men’s flats, probably expensive, custom-made ones, too?

“Where are you headed?” asked Peeta. “I guarantee I can show you the way.”

She conceded. “To the 8th floor.”

“What a coincidence. Me, too.”

Well, now she couldn’t stew over her humiliation alone in the elevator on the ride up, but the most important thing was making it on time for her interview.

***  
The elevator ride wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be‒Peeta didn’t say much, though he did look over quite a few times‒and before Katniss knew it, she was seated before the Channel 12 hiring committee.

The committee consisted of five, including Haymitch Abernathy, Production Manager, a dark-haired, middle-aged man with silver eyes like her, and Effie Trinket, Marketing and Public Relations Specialist, a strange-looking woman wearing a vibrant pink wig. Much to her chagrin, Peeta Mellark was seated next to Miss Trinket.

What was he doing on the committee? He was just an anchorman. Why did he get to make decisions like this? And God only knows what he’d told them about her when he found out who she was and left to personally inform them of her arrival.

But Peeta Mellark was the least of her worries. Coriolanus Snow, President of the network, an older man with snakelike features was of much greater concern. He was there along with his assistant, Seneca Crane, who had the freakiest beard she’d ever seen.

The interview was a blur. The entire time Katniss couldn’t even feel her body, aside from the flush of adrenaline, but somehow she’d rattled off response after response. Everyone was looking relatively pleased, or at least pensive, in a good way. As for Peeta Mellark, he was shooting her that blinding smile, which she supposed was a good sign, unless he was making fun of her.

The committee took a few moments to confer, and then the production manager, Haymitch, spoke up. To her shock, he jabbed a finger and bellowed, “I say we hire that girl. She’s got spunk. I like that.”

Katniss blinked several times in rapid succession. She hadn’t expected such a quick decision; she’d fully planned on going home tonight with a pit in her stomach and suffering from horrible anticipation over the coming days while awaiting the call.

Peeta raised his hand. “I second that.”

What?

“Alright, who else?” asked Abernathy.

Miss Trinket spoke up in her affected accent. “Well, her seasonal costumes leave something to be desired…” Katniss had shown them her chosen outfits as the job announcement had instructed, having been relieved to not be asked to change into them. But this didn’t sound good. Costumes? “Well, I suppose it’s nothing Wardrobe can’t fix,” Miss Trinket went on, “so, I vote yes.”

The decision was unanimous in Katniss’s favor. Even President Snow waved a regal hand in the air in approval, and then got up and left, his creepy assistant nipping at his heels like a lap dog. But not before Crane took a long, hard look at Katniss’s legs.

“Can ya start right away?” asked Haymitch Abernathy. “Tomorrow at 5 AM?”

“Uh, yes, of course,” replied Katniss.

“Good. Well then, sweetheart,” he smirked, “welcome to the team.”

“Thank you,” said Katniss.

Abernathy grunted something about seeing her bright and early tomorrow, then told her to report to Miss Trinket for further instruction.

While Katniss was gathering her things, reality finally set in. Oh my god. I can’t believe I got the job!

She couldn’t wait to get home and tell Prim. So blissfully unaware was she, imagining the look on Prim’s face, that she didn’t notice Peeta’s approach.

“Congratulations.” She snapped to attention at his voice, clutching the strap of her bag. “Can I buy you lunch to celebrate?” he asked.

Why was he always doing that?

Katniss cast him a sideways glance. “No, thank you. Once I’m through here, I’m planning on heading straight home.”

It was the truth. She was eager to get home to Prim and give her the good news. And as for Peeta Mellark, she didn’t know whether or not she should trust him yet. She needed time to decide. Besides, she wasn’t in the habit of making lunch dates with men she’d just met.

After dismissing Peeta, Katniss headed to Miss Trinket’s office, where she was forced to wait while she and Mr. Abernathy argued over anything they could. At long last, the eccentric woman focused on Katniss, filling her in on the details regarding her schedule and what was expected of her.

Katniss listened intently, but when they got down to the costumes, she questioned Miss Trinket. “Excuse me, but there was nothing in the job announcement about ‘costumes.’ It only said seasonal attire.”

“Well,” exclaimed Miss Trinket in her shrill voice, “what do you think seasonal attire is, my dear?”

“So, what I selected isn’t‒”

“Look, sweetheart,” Haymitch cut in, surprisingly backing Miss Trinket, “it is what it is. You want the job, you’ll be expected to fill certain responsibilities.”

Katniss had thought reporting the weather was her main responsibility, not looking cute in costume.

“Those little outfits you brought in, the sweaters and pantsuits, they were nice and professional and all, but-”

“But that’s not the image we’re looking for,” interjected Miss Trinket.

“What are you looking for?” Katniss asked.

“Well,” Haymitch stroked his whiskers, “it’s like this. A big part of your job is getting people to like you.”

Katniss stared at the paunchy, middle-aged production manager, trying not to breathe in his whiskey breath.

“Oh, not what you were expecting, right?” He smirked. “You thought you were only here to give the weather.”

 _Frankly, yes_.

“That may be your ‘technical,’” Effie chimed in, pinching her forefinger and thumb together on both hands, “job, but the image you present to viewers is equally important.”

Haymitch nodded then brushed back a scraggly chunk of hair. “Thing is, we want people to look at you, and keep looking, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem at all, Haymitch.”

Katniss’s eyes snapped toward the doorway in time to see Peeta Mellark. Of course, he’d had to butt in where it wasn’t his business.

“Boy, why don’t you go find something to do or go home?” barked Haymitch as if he was speaking to his son.

“Yes, boss,” Peeta quipped. Then he winked at Katniss and gave her a ridiculous little wave before leaving.

Haymitch snorted. “He’s got a smart mouth on him, but he really is a good kid once ya get to know him.”

Katniss didn’t want to get to know him. Smart mouth, indeed. Every time Peeta Mellark opened his mouth, she wanted to smack it. There was also this tiny part of her that wanted to kiss it...and she loathed herself for that.

“So, like I was sayin’,” Haymitch continued, “We don’t want viewers changin’ the channel or turnin’ off the TV and going about their business ‘cause you’re too boring, sweetheart.”

Boring? Was he serious? It was the weather. How exciting did he want to make it? Sure, she found it fascinating, and occasionally, major storm fronts came through, but that’s not what the public wanted. The public wanted sunny, temperate, perfect weather.

Suddenly, Katniss was transported back to her childhood. She recalled one day watching the news with her dad...

A weather forecaster on TV was reporting on a flash flood, and he appeared to be in it. He was wearing a raincoat, gripping his rain hat, even looking like he was about to be swept away with the current. But five-year-old Katniss called him out, saying it didn’t look real.

“You’re right, sweetie,” said her dad. “It isn’t real. It’s a television show, and the man is acting. That screen behind him is called a green screen. The forecaster stands in front of it and is filmed, and then they use computers to show whatever background they want, the weather map, a picture or video of a storm, all kinds of things.”

Katniss’s gray eyes went wide with interest. She felt as though her father had just unlocked the secrets of the universe for her. Finally, an adult who told her the truth!

In retrospect, her dad was always honest with her. Katniss missed him badly.

“We also want to draw more viewers in,” Miss Trinket was saying. “So, you’ll wear whatever your prep team decides best appeals to the masses.”

Katniss’s brow furrowed. “My...prep team?”

“Yes, of course,” trilled Effie Trinket. “Oh, you haven’t met them yet, have you? I’ll rectify that.” She pulled out her phone‒the thing was honest-to-goodness hot pink with little rhinestones all over it. Katniss hadn’t thought anyone over the age of 15 or who lived in recent years had one like that. The woman was certainly an enigma.

Miss Trinket typed something into her phone, a feat seemingly impossible with those long, fake nails of hers, and she waited. An annoyingly peppy notification sound came through seconds later. Miss Trinket clacked at a few more buttons and nodded. “Well, you’ll meet them tomorrow, Miss Everdeen. Bright and early. It’s going to be a big, big, big, big day!”

***  
After that, Haymitch took Katniss around the station for a tour, introducing various persons along the way, some camera operators and a few reporters who weren’t out on assignment. He took her by the offices, where she met the station accountant and the social media manager. Then he took her to the production room, where she made acquaintance with the production team: Cressida, the director; her specialized camera crew, consisting of Messala, Castor and his brother, Pollux, and Plutarch Heavensbee, the man who made it all happen, according to Cressida.

They stopped briefly by the tape vault, the media room, the lounge, and Haymitch pointed out Peeta’s and Bristel’s dressing rooms, but they didn’t go in. When they were leaving, though, Peeta was exiting his dressing room and asked if he could tag along.

The three of them stepped into the master control room next. Katniss was instantly captivated by the place, with its dozens of small monitors and impressive diagnostic equipment. There, Katniss met Wiress and Beetee, the audio engineer and broadcast technician. She liked them right away, Wiress for her quiet intelligence, and Beetee for correcting Haymitch when he referred to him as the reigning ‘weather nerd.’ However, Katniss did find it funny when Haymitch commented on how Beetee loved lightning and said he could have taught Ben Franklin a thing or two about flying that kite.

The group left the control room and swung back around, returning to the studio floor. “And this is where the magic happens,” said Haymitch, “where the on-air personalities deliver the show. And of course, you’ve met our on-air talent, Peeta Mellark.”

What did he mean by, “of course you’ve met”? She was still wondering whether Peeta had told them the whole story about what happened this morning. Come to think of it, some of the group was privately chuckling and stopped as soon as she arrived.

Peeta put her off before, but now, she had unadulterated disdain for him.

“Yes, I had a brief encounter with Miss Everdeen this morning,” said Peeta.

Don’t even try and play it off like you haven’t been spreading it around all morning, thought Katniss.

He’d probably embellished it, too. In Peeta Mellark’s version, she was probably some addle-brained bimbo trailing on his heels, begging for his autograph and a quickie in the closet before the show.

“Oh yes, we all heard about your encounter,” chuckled Haymitch. “Peeta running game as usual. Miss Everdeen’s little clumsy moment…”

Katniss stiffened up.

She knew it.

“Haymitch, that’s not‒” protested Peeta. “Katniss, he’s only joking.”

Peeta seemed almost desperate for her to believe him. Was he that hard up? But his over-the-top reaction only served to prove to her it was an act. Abernathy was probably just covering for him, pretending as though he’d heard it through the grapevine.

“Yeah, this boy,” Haymitch patted Peeta on the back, “watch out for him. Could charm the skin off a lizard. Guess that’s why we keep him around, though.”

 _Lizards shed their skin_ , thought Katniss. That’s what should happen with unwanted things. She fixed her eyes on Peeta.

Peeta rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, chuckling at Haymitch’s remark. “You flatter me, Haymitch.” Then he sheepishly looked to Katniss as if wanting her take on the subject.

She wouldn’t bother.

“It’s true,” Abernathy directed his words at Katniss. “This one’s got charisma, knows how to work with the cameras. We barely even have to cue him. He’s been voted Top Anchor almost every year, and since he came around our ratings have skyrocketed.”

Katniss knew most of those things from talking to Prim. ‘Ratings skyrocketed?’ Probably all those lovesick teens, like her sister, watching. Poor, deluded girls.

Naturally, she wasn’t in the same boat. She was the one waving frantically to all the other boats trying to warn them of the impending danger that was Peeta Mellark.

Katniss shot Peeta a frigid stare. He seemed to notice the chill descending upon him because his eyes widened a tick, his face taking on an almost puppy-like quality.

Oh no, don’t give me that look. You know what you did, you jerk. And I’ll never forget it.

Unphased by the silent war going on around him, Haymitch went on, “Peeta’s co-anchor, Bristel Evans, isn’t here right now, but you’ll meet her tomorrow.”

All of a sudden, Peeta clasped his hands together. “Haymitch, I can take over from here; I’m sure you have things to do. Would you like to see my desk, Katniss?”

Katniss had no interest in seeing his desk; she could see it from here, but it almost seemed like code for ‘Let’s talk,’ and she did have a few things to say to him. So, she agreed.

“I’ll leave you two kids to it,” said Haymitch, shuffling off. “Behave yourselves.”

Katniss groaned.

Peeta then beckoned for her to follow him over to the long, mahogany desk with the Channel 12 logo fused to the front of it. Tightening her jaw slightly, she did so.

He was in the midst of running a hand along the smooth surface of the wood when she turned on him. “So, you told everyone about what happened this morning,” she said it as more a statement than a question.

“What? Katniss, no, I didn’t. It just got around.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Believe what you want.” Peeta leaned against his desk and folded his arms.

Katniss refused to be affected by his eyes or the way he was staring at her.

She was fully prepared to storm off on the blue-eyed monster, but the whole thing quickly unraveled into a heated argument.

“You are so not who my sister thought you were!” she practically shouted in response to his insinuation that she’d made up the story about her sister. Katniss’s head snapped from side to side, hoping no one had heard.

Her blood was boiling, and she just needed to get out of there before she further humiliated herself because of Peeta-scumbag-Mellark.

“Katniss, wait,” he called after her retreating form.

She glared at him when he caught up and leaped in front of her, but she didn’t try to get past him.

“Hey, I think you’ve misunderstood me,” he said, standing before her, arms at his sides.

“I don’t think I have at all. In fact, I seem to be the only one around here who sees exactly what you are.”

Peeta’s jaw muscles twitched. “What makes you such an expert on me after a few brief encounters?”

“Well, let’s just say, I came here already knowing a lot about you.”

“From your sister?”

“Yes. She’s only ever had good things to say about you, but after meeting you today, I can see that she was wrong. A lot of people were.”

Peeta stuffed his hands into his pockets. “What makes you say that?”

“I have good instincts, Peeta. I can see things for the way they are beneath the surface.” She attributed her finely-attuned senses to hunting and a general, quiet observation of the world around her. “I can also sift through the bullshit and get to the real story.”

“Sounds disgusting,” he said. She scowled at him. “Maybe you should be a reporter.”

“Don’t change the subject, Mellark.”

Peeta heaved a weary sigh. “What if you’re wrong? Don’t you think instinct can fail you? It isn’t everything. There’s a lot to be said for experience and actually getting to know a person, and you haven’t even tried to get to know me.”

And I’m not going to.

“Not sure who you think I am. If it’s about what Haymitch said, he was exaggerating. And maybe what you think you see is just the face I put on for the masses.”

“If so, that makes you even worse‒because you’re a phony.”

“I’m a television personality, Katniss. I have to do a little bit of acting for my job. Why do you make it sound so deplorable?”

“Because you don’t stop when you’re off-camera.” She watched him press his lips together. “That means it’s one of two things: either you really are this way or you’re keeping up the pretense that you are to hide something about yourself.”

He said nothing.

“So, you’re either a jerk or a coward. Whichever man you are, I don’t want to know that man.”

Peeta nodded slowly. “I guess there’s nothing left to be said then.”

“Guess not.” And with that, she walked away. He let her go.

But Katniss couldn’t help wincing over how she’d screwed up. Now he’d never sign Prim’s photo.

***  
Twenty minutes later, Katniss was opening her bag to pack the paperwork HR and Miss Trinket had given her to read over and sign before tomorrow when she found the photo of Peeta sticking out. But there was something different about it… She picked it up to examine, and sure enough, it had been signed.

_How did he…? When did he…?_

He’d not only signed it, but he’d personalized it and even written a little note. Katniss’s brow scrunched up, and as she began to read, her features softened.

_**Dear Prim,** _

_**I hear you’re an admirer of mine, and I wanted to tell you how flattered I am for your esteem and your support over the years. I don’t know much about you, but I truly hope you have or find something in life worth going for, and that you get it. And I hope you have at least one beautiful reason to get up in the morning, even on days when it seems impossible.** _

_**I believe you do.** _

_**One thing I know for certain is you have a sister who loves you dearly and would do, I’m sure, anything for you. Treasure that.** _

_**Because I couldn’t decide on just one, I’ll leave you with two of my favorite quotes:** _

_**“Success is not final; failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts” -Winston Churchill** _

_**“Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.” -William James** _

_**Sincerely,** _

_**Peeta Mellark** _

_**P.S. If you ever find yourself at Channel 12, please ask for me. I would love to meet you.** _

_**** _

Katniss couldn’t believe it. There was nothing arrogant or suggestive in what he’d written. He’d been humble, kind, and encouraging. Without knowing anything about Prim (or her condition), he’d somehow managed to write exactly what she needed to hear. His words to Prim had practically brought tears to Katniss's eyes. Maybe she had misjudged him, after all. Anyone who would write such beautiful words to someone they didn’t even know couldn’t be all bad...

“Damn you, Peeta Mellark.” She sniffled. _You’re making it so much harder to hate you…_

“No reason your sister should suffer for your snap judgments.” She heard his voice before she saw him. Somehow, he had a knack for sneaking up on her, even despite her senses and how loudly he usually walked.

Katniss didn’t bother arguing his choice of the word ‘suffer’ and instead thanked him for what he’d done for Prim. It may have been a simple task, but it was going to mean the world to her.

Peeta simply nodded.

She knew she should apologize, too, but she couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he said.

“Yes, tomorrow.” She was thankful for the reprieve.

“Have a good evening, Katniss. I hope Prim enjoys the picture.”

“Thanks. Good evening, Peeta.”

* * *

By the time she got home (much later than expected), Katniss was wiped. Emotionally and physically, it’d felt like an entire workday, and she was thrilled to get into her lounge clothes and curl up on the couch with Prim. They ordered takeout, and Katniss told Prim about her day and meeting Peeta, albeit the watered-down version. And then she gave her the signed photo. Prim cried.

They spent the rest of the evening watching a movie and relaxing, and around 10, Katniss got Prim into bed.

“Katniss, I have a confession to make,” said Prim as Katniss tucked the covers around her small body.

“You mean besides sneaking a photo of Peeta Mellark into my bag.” She smirked.

Prim chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, another one.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I maaay have known Peeta Mellark’s favorite color was orange...”

She fixed Prim with a hard stare. “Oh?” Against her will, the corners of Katniss’s mouth turned up.

“Yeah,” Prim said sheepishly. “I read it in a magazine interview.”

“So, that explains your suggestion of the orange dress.”

Prim bobbed her head.

“And what were you hoping to accomplish by that?”

“Well, it did go along with the autumn theme...,” hedged Prim.

Katniss gave her ‘the look,’ and Prim shrugged her shoulders from beneath the covers. “Dunno. Just thought he might notice and like it and…”

“Well, he did notice, and he seemed to like it,” said Katniss, thinking it’d make her sister happy. She went on to tell her how he’d mentioned it was his favorite color. Prim responded with a gummy smile.

“Goodnight, Little Duck,” said Katniss, kissing her head. Prim said goodnight back, and Katniss left the room, shutting off the light on her way out.

Don’t get your hopes up, Prim. Even if I misjudged him, even if I might like him a little, he must hate me now...

The next morning at 4 AM, Katniss’s alarm sounded. Beep...Beep...Beep...BEEP...BEEP BEEP BEEP! It rang progressively louder and relentlessly until she shut it off without a snooze.

Katniss got up and readied for work. She didn’t put too much thought into her attire‒dressing in a brownish sweater they’d picked out and a pair of tan dress pants‒because her ‘prep team’ would be putting her in...costume today. She shuddered.

She braided her hair, filled her forest green coffee tumbler, and grabbed a piece of toast. Then she stopped by Prim’s room. Softly, she told Prim goodbye. Prim stirred, mumbled something incoherent, and waved her hand haphazardly. A few seconds later, she gasped and shot straight up in bed.

Katniss spun back around. “Prim! What’s wrong?”

“I-I forgot,” Prim was blinking the sleep from her eyes, “to make you breakfast.”

“It’s okay. Thanks, anyway.”

“No, it’s not okay.” Prim shook her head, causing her loose blonde waves, which she usually wore in a brad, to bounce. “I wanted to wake up early and make you breakfast on your first day, but I overslept.”

Katniss’s lips curled into a smile. “That’s thoughtful of you, Little Duck, but it’s fine. I had some toast.”

Before Prim could argue how that wasn’t a proper breakfast (Prim, likewise, looked out for her), Katniss informed her that she’d better be going. Prim reminded Katniss not to forget Grandma’s pin and told her she’d watch her on TV, and the sisters parted for the day.

* * *

Upon Katniss’s arrival at the station, Miss Trinket was already in a panic over who knows what. She hurriedly dragged Katniss off while talking a mile a minute, briefing her on some last-minute changes she needed to know about before going on the air, as if she wasn’t nervous enough.

Then she took Katniss to meet her prep team. Venia, Flavius, and Octavia were their names. How very Roman. And they were a sight to see. Like Miss Trinket, they dressed in weird fashions, wore their hair in odd styles and vibrant colors, and Octavia was even elaborately inked to the point her skin had nearly taken on a different color (light, sickly green).

The prep team shared with Katniss their ideas for her attire and what costumes they already had backstage. She was supposed to dress seasonally, of course, and they planned on doing that sporadically and during the holiday weeks, but on the off days, they’d be dressing her weather-related.

Today’s forecast called for rain, so, surprise, surprise, Katniss was to become a raindrop.

When they showed her costume, she nearly had a coronary.

To top it off, Peeta Mellark strolled in about 15 minutes later looking fresh as rain and in absolutely no hurry.

_Yuck. A morning person. The most obnoxious of all creatures._

“Good morning! I brought pastries, everyone!” Peeta brightly called out, placing several boxes with a golden M logo on the long fold-out table in the lounge.

Katniss joined the herd at the table where she met Peeta’s co-anchor, Bristel, who informed her that Peeta bakes the pastries himself.

_Wow. So, not only does he come to work super early in an extremely bubbly mood, but beforehand, he gets up and bakes?_

_Some people…_

The food did look good, however.

Shrugging, Katniss surveyed her options, finally settling on a hearty golden bun sprinkled with spices. She took a bite, and her mouth instantly filled with hot, gooey cheese. It wasn’t what she was expecting, and it didn’t seem like much of a breakfast food, but it was incredible.

“Cheese bun,” said Peeta, coming up beside her.

“Excuse me?”

“What you’re eating.” He motioned. “It’s a cheese bun, one of my specialties.”

Katniss covered her mouth, for it was still stuffed with thick, stringy cheese. “It’s good,” she muttered as best she could without choking.

Peeta was all smiles. “Glad you like it.”

Weird. Peeta had completely bounced back after she’d railed on him yesterday. It was as if his mind had been wiped blank overnight. Or, perhaps he was just a forgiving kind of person.

 _Ugh_.

Not long after breakfast, the prep team started in on Katniss’s makeup. She bit the bullet and relinquished control to the strange group. What else could she do? At least a dash of makeup was all she needed today‒no reason to do her hair, considering only part of her face would be visible through the hole cut into the massive, bulbous, blue costume.

She’d been trying not to think about it, but it seemed to be all she could…

During her despair, the prep team was yapping away about further plans for her seasonal attire. It was still a few weeks away from Halloween, but from the sounds of it, they planned on dressing her up in several different costumes, spanning the week leading up to the day. And so on for Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc. Their ideas were cliché. They suggested things like a leaf, a giant pumpkin, and yes, a witch with full-on green makeup, supposedly a more realistic dye-like substance, which frankly, Katniss was worried about coming out of her skin.

They finished with her makeup and sent Katniss off to get in costume. It was challenging getting inside the raindrop, but she managed. She only wished the two female members of the prep team hadn’t kept calling in, asking if she needed help.

Katniss had some time to kill; unfortunately, she could barely sit in the raindrop costume, so she ended up waddling to the lounge and flopping onto the couch. Positioned half-on, half-odd, she grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV. Caesar Flickerman was on, excitedly encouraging a contestant to spin a giant wheel that looked like a clock. The contestant was hopeful they’d win a prize and avoid a negative outcome.

And then she heard his smug voice. “Why, Katniss Everdeen, you’re a raindrop.”

“Hello, Peeta,” she gritted out as he popped his blond head into the doorway.

“Good morning. I take it it’s going to rain today.” He smirked over at her as he settled onto the opposite end of the couch.

Katniss pretended to focus on her hands, resting against the blue fabric of her costume. “I take it you never have to dress in costume,” she muttered.

“No, just have my hair done.”

“Lucky you.” _Bastard_. Lucky ‘bastard’ was what she had wanted to say.

Portia materialized then with her bag of styling tools and a fold-up chair. She set her bag on a nearby counter and pulled out the styling gel and a comb. Then she set up the chair beside the couch and beckoned with a long fingernail for Peeta to sit. He did so, and she moved behind him.

It was disgusting how his every whim was catered to. Despite the nice note he’d written Prim, she still thought Peeta Mellark loathsome in so many ways.

“What are you doing here, Peeta?” demanded Katniss. “Why aren’t you having your hair styled in your dressing room?”

“Gets so lonely in there,” he whined. Katniss rolled her eyes. “I mean, I have Portia to talk to, but she’s very focused on her work.” Peeta grinned at Katniss, then patted Portia on the hand. She gave him some secret look and squeezed his hand, her lips twitching beneath her heavy, dark purple lipstick.

“You’re here to bug me, aren’t you?”

Peeta’s brow wrinkled up like one of those shar peis. “Whatever makes you say that, Katniss?”

“Cut the innocent act, Mellark. Somehow you heard or assumed I’d be dressed…” Humiliatingly? Ridiculously? Well, as deluded as her prep team was, they weren’t awful people. Weird, yes. Clueless, yes. Tasteless, yes. But not awful. And she didn’t want her words to get back to them. “As a raindrop,” she finished with. “And you wanted to come have a look at me.”

“What for, Katniss? I’ll be seeing you on the air very soon, anyway. Maybe I just wanted to talk to you.”

And get a few shots in, no doubt. “Fine. Say what you have to say, get some gel slapped in your hair, then go.”

Peeta looked helplessly back at Portia, and Katniss might think his reaction naive if she didn’t know better. Portia pressed her lips together and ran her hand through his hair almost soothingly. Why was he gaining so much sympathy here?

“Really just wanted to wish our new weather girl luck,” said Peeta.

“I’m a Meteorologist,” Katniss corrected. “And as for this job, my title is Weather Forecaster, not Weather Girl.”

“My apologies,” he replied, sounding sincere.

Katniss wasn’t quite buying Peeta’s nice guy act. She did, however, need luck. Or something. She could barely walk in this costume, and she was already starting to sweat. Not to mention, she felt like an idiot.

Meanwhile, Grade A philanderer, Peeta Mellark, was in a suit that breathed, being primped by a beautiful, leggy woman who stroked his hair like he was her pet.

Katniss sighed.

As expected, it didn’t take long for Portia to finish with Peeta’s hair. He had nice skin, too, so even though the camera picks up every little imperfection, all she did was put a light dusting of powder on his face and dab his lips with a clear gloss.

Then she handed him a mirror, and Peeta preened in front of it like a peacock. Seriously? Was he actually like this, or was he putting on a show for her benefit?

“Portia, sweetheart, you’re a genius.” He turned his head from side to side, taking a good, long look at himself in the mirror. “You always make me look good.”

 _Vain asshole. Smug bastard. Arrogant jerk_.

She was running out of names to call him in her head, and she feared they might start slipping out. Not that she cared if he heard her, but with her being new and him having so much clout, she might want to behave herself for the time being.

But really, did anyone fall for his BS?

“Peeta, honey, you flatter me too much,” said Portia, tucking back a stray curl. Guess that answered that. “It’s easy to dress up the packaging when what’s underneath is already so lovely.”

How disgusting! Had his stylist slept with him, too? Katniss wouldn’t be surprised.

Naturally, Peeta looked over as Katniss cringed. She quickly wiped the expression away, but she was sure he’d caught it. Oh well. It wasn’t like he didn’t know she found him detestable. Detestable and desirable. He didn’t know about the latter, and she planned on keeping it that way.

When Portia stepped away, Katniss heaved herself upright (she felt like a whale) to see him more clearly. “Any more shots to get in?”

“Shots?”

“Don’t play dumb, Mellark. You were making fun of me earlier, weren’t you?”

“Not at all, Katniss.” She squinted in disbelief. “Well, okay, I was teasing a little, but I sympathize with you.” He placed a hand on his chest. “I think the costume is a bit much, and I know you hate wearing it, but…”

“But what?”

“But you look cute.”

She glowered at him.

“No, really, you do.”

“I do not. I look ridiculous. I’m going to literally be a huge joke to my friends and family and all of Panem.”

Peeta pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Then walk away.”

“What?”

“Walk away. Just quit and walk out. Change first, of course.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You might be leaving them in the lurch, but you’re not under contract yet, so you have no legal obligation. And it’s not like they can’t find a replacement.”

His suggestion would be logical if not for one very important thing (or person, rather).

“I can’t afford to think like that.”

“Why not?”

“I…” She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

Katniss stared down at the bulging bottom of her costume. “I have my sister.”

Peeta nodded. “And she needs you.”

His statement said it all, and she was thankful he understood without her explaining.

“Yes.”

“Well, there are plenty of other opportunities out there for a Meteorologist, aren’t there?” suggested Peeta.

“Not like this one.” That pay like this one…

“Well,” Peeta sniffed, “then I suggest you remind yourself of that and try and make the most of it.”

She wasn’t angry with him for saying so. It made sense.

“And I guarantee, you’re no joke. You’re a strong, independent, intelligent woman, who...just so happens to be dressed as a raindrop today.” He smiled, and Katniss smiled faintly back.

Had he legitimately complimented her?

“And if on Halloween, you’re dressed as a hideous witch and on Thanksgiving, a turkey, just remember that you’re only doing a job, and we all have to do things we don’t like sometimes, don’t we?”

Oddly, Peeta Mellark’s little not-really-a-pep-talk helped.

With a deep inhale and a slow exhale, Katniss conceded. “I’m not even a scientifically accurate raindrop, though,” she lamented. “I’m a stereotypical teardrop-shaped blob.”

Peeta laughed heartily. “But a cute blob.”

“Peeta!” she screeched, reaching out to shove him but missing by a mile.

“Sorry.” A grin spread across Peeta’s face. “So, Katniss...what is the correct form of a raindrop?”

“Well, Peeta, I’m glad you asked.” She smiled genuinely and went on to explain. “As you know they’re drawn like teardrops in cartoons and graphics, and some people say they’re spherical because of the way they collect on surfaces, but because of the interaction of cohesion, surface tension, air resistance, and gravity, they actually look like the tops of hamburger buns.”

Peeta chuckled. “Hamburger buns, really?”

“Yeah.”

Katniss eyed Peeta; he was grinning like mad.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so adorable when you talk like a weather nerd.”

Whatever warm front had been stirring between them quickly frosted over.

Scowling, Katniss stood as quickly as she could in the costume and trudged toward the door.

“Katniss! Katniss, wait, don’t go!” Peeta called out. “I didn’t mean it in a derogatory sense. I like nerds. Love ‘em. Some of my best friends are nerds.”

Katniss heard everything he was saying, for it was taking much longer to storm out than she would have liked.

“I bake! Don’t you think I get teased about that?”

Several members of the crew had overheard and were peeking in, some smirking and some outright chuckling. Peeta hopped out of his chair and stared after where Katniss had gone.

Portia came up beside him and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Peeta, honey, you know I love you, but you just fell flat on your face in the mud.”

“I sure did, Portia.” Peeta sighed.

***  
As the theme music kicked up, and the morning news began, Katniss stood offset, watching and waiting for her turn to go on. Peeta was looking undeniably handsome, seated behind his massive desk next to Bristel, who appeared perfectly lovely herself.

“Good morning, Panem. This is Channel 12 News. I’m Peeta Mellark.” Peeta flashed his radiant smile for the camera and froze.

“And I’m Bristel Evans,” chimed in his co-anchor.

“In today’s news…” Peeta kicked things off with a story about the political unrest in Panem, then turned to Bristel, who went right into a lighter story about the chaos that ensued over the opening of a new Halloween-themed store.

They took turns delivering the headlines, and then Peeta announced they’d be going to the streets of the Seam neighborhood for Glimmer’s “Girl on the Street” interview segment.

Glimmer was a blonde, ditzy, stick of a girl wearing a mini dress and high heels. ‘Girl on the Street,’ indeed, thought Katniss, shaking her head at her bad pun.

Today, Glimmer was interviewing some fans who were waiting in line for the hot new horror flick to hit theaters. Eager to spill their anticipations, the fans were dressed in various elaborate, horrific costumes, which Glimmer seemed horrified by. Still, she did her best to talk with them about the movie all the while keeping on that fake, sugary smile. But when one of them tried to touch her, she scampered off, exclaiming, “Back to you, Peeta!”

Peeta read another story and made some charming, witty remark about it that had Bristel giggling. And probably Prim back at home, too, thought Katniss.

Cato on “Sports Talk” was up next. The muscular blond was the typical jock, and even smugger than Peeta Mellark. Katniss had been able to identify his tiny red sports car in the parking lot (he was clearly compensating for something), and based on her limited experience, he was a huge jerk with a big ego, who was always cursing on-air.

Katniss had learned about the cursing earlier this morning after being privy to Cato’s warm-up session...

Haymitch Abernathy groaned. “Ya can’t curse so much on the air, Cato,” he chastised after Cato got all fired up over a bad call that resulted in Panem’s team losing the game. “Our sponsors won’t go for it. You might be able to sneak a damn or a hell in now and again, but nothing more than that.

“He shouldn’t curse at all!” argued Effie Trinket. “It’s just bad manners!”

It was about ten minutes of back and forth on that.

Presently, Katniss listened while Cato rambled off football scores, and then he got riled up again about last night’s game and started cursing out the ref. That’s when he got cut off, and it was back to Peeta.

“What can I say?” chuckled Peeta goodnaturedly. “That’s our Cato.”

“He’s certainly passionate about our team, isn’t he, Peeta?” piped Bristel.

“That he is, Bristel. Remind me to tell everyone the story of when he tried to dump the water cooler on me after a win.”

Bristel and Peeta shared a laugh, and Katniss couldn’t help but smile. Whether the story was true or not, Peeta was good.

He turned back to the camera then, and Katniss knew what was coming. She took a deep breath and mentally prepared herself for Peeta’s cue.

“And now,” said Peeta, “let’s go to the newest member of our team for the weather report, the lovely Katniss Everdeen.”

Oh God, please don’t let me suck…

And just like that, she was on live TV.

Standing in front of the green screen, Katniss stared out ahead into the teleprompter. Off to the side, she saw the screen displaying the map of Panem that was being projected behind her. It took her only an extra second or two to go.

As with her interview, she could hardly remember what she’d said, but she had the feeling it went okay. When the cameras cut back to Peeta, he had a different sort of smile on...something akin to a proud one. Or maybe she was imagining it.

“Thank you, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta beamed. “On one hand, I’m sorry it’s going to rain, and I regret forgetting my umbrella, but on the other, chatting with a particularly lovely, intelligent raindrop this morning certainly brightened my spirits.”

Katniss flushed. Why did he have to say that on-air? Was that prompted? Probably not. It was too specific. He must have made that up on the spot to flirt with her, or try and apologize?

***  
After the news, the team gathered around, as Katniss was told was customary, to discuss how everything went. Of course, Glimmer and Cato got bawled out, but no one said anything to Peeta. Rather, he got clapped on the back.

When it came to her turn, Katniss attempted to read Haymitch’s expression while he left her momentarily in suspense.

“Well,” he finally began, “while there’s room for improvement, after the little delay, you were good, sweetheart.” Others around him were agreeing. And Peeta Mellark, he was smiling and giving her a thumbs up. It reminded her of Prim.

Katniss smiled.

“The viewers liked you, Katniss,” said Effie, bringing up the report. “However, they weren’t thrilled with your costume, despite Peeta’s little remark, which helped some, I’m sure.”

Katniss wasn’t surprised. Had anyone besides the prep team thought the viewers would like her costume? Maybe laugh about it, but not like it.

Effie turned to the prep team. “Let’s try to be better next time, you three,” she trilled.

A few days later, Peeta came in dressed in another expensive-looking suit, a brown plaid tweed. He never seemed to wear the same suit twice, and although his attire was his own business, for some reason, it annoyed Katniss. Maybe because she had no choice in what she wore‒and was currently dressed in a fluffy cloud dress.

“Another fancy suit,” commented Katniss.

“You like it?” He didn’t even give her time to say ‘no’ as if he was the only participant in the conversation. “Bespoke, from England.”

 _He imports his suits from England?_!

“England?”

“Yes, had to go there personally to get it. They’re tailored specially, you know.”

Unbelievable. What an ass.

Speaking of asses, his was looking particularly nice in the new suit. She’d caught a glimpse.

What the hell? She didn’t know why she’d been having such thoughts about him lately. It wasn’t like her.

“I bought this one because it makes my eyes pop.” He grinned. “Don’t you think?”

Yes.

“Could you be any more conceited?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I could.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Why do I get the feeling you still don’t like me, Katniss?” he asked, moving in closer. Her heart pitter-pattered in her chest.

Holding her head high, she placed her hands on the poofy material surrounding her hips. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Peeta. I have no feelings toward you whatsoever.”

“Ouch. That might be worse. Surely you’ve formed some opinion by now.” He looked her in the eyes. “It seems negative.”

“And if it is, what does it matter?”

Peeta sighed and changed the subject. “About my suits, I’m expected to look good for my job. I happen to like quality tailored suits.”

It was well-tailored at that, thought Katniss. It hugged his muscular arms nicely but didn’t appear to be cutting off his circulation. Those arms, though...ones that looked like they could hoist you up effortlessly onto a countertop or table and…

 _Damn it_. This train of thought had to stop!

“You can get a quality tailored suit right here in the city for a quarter of the price!” she argued. “Not to mention the cost of airfare...”

“Yeah, so?” He shrugged. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I grew up in a bad home. I made it on my own with no help from anyone. I make a lot of money now, so who cares how I spend it?”

 _Well, damn_. Now she felt bad.

“And for all you know, I give a lot of money to the poor.”

“Do you?”

“Well, now, Katniss, where’s the fun in telling you that?”

She sighed.

“Look, don’t blame me that you’re dressed as a cloud and that next week you’ll be a pumpkin and a witch and that on Thanksgiving you’ll be a turkey.”

Katniss gaped. “Where did you hear all that? Have you been lurking around my prep team, eavesdropping?”

“Lurking? You make me sound like some skeevy loser like Seneca Crane.” Katniss had to bite back a grin on that one. “I don’t lurk, Katniss. This is a small station, and things get around. Besides, I was only guessing.”

Well, he was right. Sadly, she was going to be all those things.

At her look of dejection, Peeta’s facial features softened. “I’m sorry, Katniss. If I could help you out, I would.”

“Fine, then put your money where your mouth is, Mellark.”

“What?”

“Figuratively only. How about you dress as the turkey, and I’ll wear one of your suits?”

What was she saying? This was a new development.

“Nah, I could never pull it off. I don’t have the legs for those tights,” teased Peeta. “It’s much more suited to you.”

Katniss scowled. “But they never see your legs. You’re behind a desk!”

Peeta shrugged.

* * *

Later in the week, Seneca Crane was in under the pretense of discussing promo spots, but everyone knew it was mainly to snoop for Snow. Therefore, everyone was on their best behavior, aside from dropping a few shenanigans right under his nose.

Because she was new, Seneca had asked to meet with Katniss to discuss her progress so far. She never should have trusted him...

From the moment he walked into the station, she’d had a bad feeling about him, and even Peeta had tried to warn her that very day, but she’d ignored him. And that’s how she ended up in her current predicament.

Crane had managed to get Katniss alone in a small conference room, and she was feeling trapped. He sat beside her in those tight, white pants of his under the guise of reviewing her ratings, continuously smiling predatorily and drumming his hand against his thigh under the table.

“So, Miss Everdeen? What are your ambitions?” he asked, just as she was about to make an excuse to leave. Katniss’s adrenaline pumped when he inched his chair closer to hers.

“What do you mean?” she asked, subtly scooting her chair away.

“I mean, what do you hope to accomplish here at Channel 12?”

“Didn’t I already interview?”

Seneca grinned. “You did, and you performed fabulously.” Performed? What was she, a monkey? “What I’m asking is more along the lines of...advancement at the station.”

Katniss had the feeling she knew where this was leading. “Advancement?” she asked coolly. “But I’m brand new.” She sensed movement from under the table then, the tapping against his thigh tapering off.

“Just because you’re new doesn’t mean you can’t advance. You don’t want to be a weather girl all your life, do you, Miss Everdeen?”

“Weather Forecaster, Mr. Crane. And actually, I love what I do here.” Costumes or no, she was beginning to. “I’m perfectly willing to pay my dues and advance in the usual way like everyone else. I don’t want or need any favors.”

“I respect that. But surely you don’t want to dress up in those ridiculous costumes forever, do you?”

“How’d you guess?”

“Well, it wasn’t that hard to piece together.” Seneca Crane gave a throaty chuckle and leaned closer. “It’s a shame for a body such as yours to be hidden underneath all that fabric. I can get you places...if you...cooperate with me.”

His hand that rested on his thigh reached out and landed on her knee, squeezing suggestively. She slapped it away and abruptly stood, setting him with a firm look. She didn’t care who he was, no one touched her like that without her consent!

She wanted to get ahead, but not that badly. Never that badly.

Katniss’s eyes burned into his. “Don’t think for one second, Mr. Crane, that just because I’m young and new here that you can take advantage of me. You disgust me.”

“Aw, come on, baby. Don’t be such a prude.” He rose from his seat and reached out, this time for her chest.

Katniss recoiled, fully prepared to beat the shit out of him, even if it got her fired, when someone burst through the door.

“Sexual harassment isn’t taken lightly these days, Mr. Crane,” came Peeta’s familiar baritone voice from across the room.

Both hers and Seneca’s heads snapped toward Peeta, who was marching into the room, his thick arms taut at his sides, his jaw muscles clenching angrily. Peeta walked right up to Seneca, wedging his body between Katniss and him, and stood several inches from him.

They were about the same height, but Seneca was much slighter in frame. “I think you need to apologize to Miss Everdeen.”

“What’s it to you?”

Peeta didn’t answer, but there was fire in his eyes. He appeared ready to murder Seneca Crane, and with that powerful-looking body, Katniss had the feeling he could do it.

Peeta got right up in Seneca’s face. “Don’t ever touch her again,” he said in a low, intimidating tone.

“Are you threatening me, Mellark?” Seneca laughed, albeit shorter and higher-pitched than before. “You looking to lose your job?

“Snow would sooner dump your body in the river than lose me. Assistants are a dime a dozen, but he’d be hard-pressed to find another me.”

Katniss’s jaw dropped. What balls Peeta had!

Normally, comments like that hinting at Peeta’s supreme smugness turned Katniss off, but right now, she couldn’t be more turned on. She felt like planting one on Peeta. It wasn’t like he was saying anything untrue.

“I saw what you did,” said Peeta, “and I’m not going to let you get away with it.”

Seneca tightened his jaw, and with a huff, he brushed past Peeta and left, slamming the door in the process.

Peeta turned to look at Katniss, who was still frozen in place. “You okay?”

Wordlessly, Katniss nodded. She didn’t know what to say to Peeta, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about a guy defending her honor. It’d never happened before, and she hadn’t necessarily needed it. But it was gallant of him, and if she put aside her feminist notions, it was kind of hot, too.

“You didn’t have to do that” was all she could think to say.

“Yeah, well,” he rubbed the back of his reddened neck, “I can’t stand to see that stuff. Sexual harassment really rubs me the wrong way.”

“Sexual harassment, really?” she blurted out. “You’re one to talk. Making all those flirtatious comments to me and asking me out.”

She meant it as a joke, mostly, as a way of lightening the mood, but Peeta seemed taken aback, and she noted that familiar jaw twitch.

Truthfully, she’d wanted to tell him how much it meant to her, say how incredible he was, but instead, she’d stuck her foot in her mouth and insulted him. Maybe it was her pride. Or, maybe he made her feel too much like a damsel in distress, and she didn’t need Peeta Mellark (or anyone) riding up on a white horse and rescuing her.

Peeta was frowning. “That may be,” he said, “but I never laid a hand on you. I certainly never ran my hand up your thigh or tried to grope your breasts.”

Katniss had to wonder what all he’d seen and heard. His timing had been impeccable. Had he been waiting there just in case?

“Why did you do that, Peeta? I can take care of myself.” She didn’t know why she wasn’t simply thanking him.

“Oh, I’m sure you can, but like I said, I can’t stand that sort of thing.”

So, it had nothing to do with him caring about what happened to her. He would have done the same for anyone. That was the way it should be, but somehow, it rubbed her the wrong way.

“I’m sure you’ve used your influence before,” she muttered barely above her breath, not even knowing whether she intended him to hear or not.

He did. And he approached her.

Peeta stood over her, staring down into her face, looking more hurt than angry, really. “Do you have something to say to me, Katniss? Or maybe something you want to know? I have nothing to hide.”

She didn’t know why, but she said the first thing that came to mind. “I want to know how many girlfriends you’ve had in the past year and how many of them were fans of yours.”

Peeta turned away, gripping his curls so hard it looked like he might rip them out. “Really, Katniss?” He let out a sardonic laugh. “That’s what you want to know?”

Clenching her fists at her sides, Katniss nodded.

He faced her. “Well, Katniss, I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“I thought you had nothing to hide,” she retorted. “Did you lose count?”

“Katniss…” Peeta exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Fine. Girlfriends this past year, there’ve been three. One serious, two casual. As for my fans, I’ve never dated one. Not a single one. You should get your facts straight, Miss Everdeen, before you go making accusations. I should think you’d know better, being on a news team now.”

Katniss lowered her eyes contritely. It was true she had no facts, only assumptions, judgments, and this burning for him...not hatred, but a fire he coaxed out of her with no more than a few words or a mere look.

“And you know, regarding what you said before, you were right,” continued Peeta. “Unwanted verbal advances are just as much harassment as physical ones. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, and I promise to stop here and now.” There was no anger in his tone, not even frustration or bitterness, only resignation. “I guess...I guess I was foolish to think you might like me. Won’t make that mistake again.”

Peeta walked away with finality.

* * *

It’d been a week since Peeta’s chivalrous act and their parting of sorts. As for Seneca, either he had been called out or Peeta was holding what he saw over his head because he’d barely come around, and when he did, he’d been on his best behavior. Katniss couldn’t imagine Peeta being involved in that, though, because he’d done his duty, then basically washed his hands of her.

Who could blame him? He’d come to her aid, and she’d accused him of being no better than her attacker. And while, yes, she had a point about his flirting, Peeta had never been disrespectful to her or made her feel uncomfortable, at least not in that way. The only discomfort Katniss ever felt with Peeta was the strong, pleasant response her body often had to him.

She worked up the courage to apologize the next day. “I’m sorry, Peeta. I was out of line in what I said, and I appreciated what you did for me.”

He studied her a moment, then replied, “It’s fine, Katniss. Let’s just forget about it.”

Even though he’d smiled and sounded sincere in his forgiveness of her, she had the feeling everything was changed for good. No more secret smiles. No more winks. No more playful teasing. No more offering to carry things for her or asking her out to lunch. No more coffee meet-ups in the mornings or sneaking her extra cheese buns...

This was what she’d wanted‒a normal, professional relationship with him‒wasn’t it?

If that was so, then why did her throat dry up and her stomach clench at the sight of the bubbly blonde in his arms that afternoon?

Katniss saw them in the lobby when she returned from lunch.

“Peeta!” The blonde giggled and flung herself into his arms.

“Dells!” Peeta bear-hugged her and honest-to-goodness picked her up and spun her around. It was like one of those old movies.

Katniss wondered which lover this was, one of the two flings or the serious one returned. Maybe she was a new conquest or one he had on reserve the whole time. She was being unfair to him, wasn’t she? Making assumptions. But it hurt. And she couldn’t understand why.

The blonde wasn’t unattractive exactly, just more normal attractive, not the tall, slender goddess type most men went for and Katniss assumed Peeta would date.

She watched Peeta set the woman down and adjust his shirt, which had bunched up, and then he threw his arm around her shoulders, and they started heading toward the elevators, where Katniss was currently standing. She hit the button several times, hoping that’d magically speed up the elevator and allow her to escape, though knowing it was useless.

“Katniss, hey,” Peeta greeted her back.

“Katniss? This is Katniss?” she heard the woman say. Why in the world would he tell his girlfriend about her? Maybe he was complaining about the wacko he worked with…

Katniss took her time turning around while she plastered on a smile. “Hi, Peeta.” She looked to the woman and nodded, and the woman gave her a shy smile.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Katniss, this is Delly Cartwright. Delly’s an old friend.”

Old friend, Peeta, or Friend-With-Benefits?

The elevator came, and Peeta motioned for the two women to get on while he held the door. Delly went first. When it was Katniss’s turn Peeta stuck out his arm, blocking the entire doorway and forcing Katniss to duck underneath his arm. What the…? She looked up at him as she straightened in the elevator, and though he didn’t smile or wink, there was something mischievous in his eyes.

Katniss settled into one back corner, Delly in the other, and Peeta was in the middle. Katniss was inexplicably reminded of that old sitcom, Three’s Company. Peeta did have a lot in common with Jack Tripper...

Peeta hit the button for their floor as no one had yet, and Katniss briefly wondered why Delly was coming with them. She supposed Peeta didn’t mind mixing work with pleasure.

As if reading her mind, Peeta cleared his throat and said, “So, Katniss, Dells is going to be hosting a guest segment on the Channel 12 morning news called ‘Delly’s Cooking Corner.’”

“I see,” said Katniss, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Actually, it’s a return segment; she’s been on before.”

Delly bobbed her head, her curls bouncing. “Yeah, I’m so excited, but I really can’t believe they asked me back because I’m so horrible at cooking!”

Peeta smiled down on her. “No, Dells, you’re not,” he said sweetly. Katniss frowned. “And they want you back because you have such a great personality. The viewers loved you and requested you like crazy.”

“Oh, Peeta,” Delly poked her lip out, “that’s so sweet.”

“It’s true, Dells.”

Katniss was about to go into a sugar coma.

“But what if I get into trouble again?”

“Well, I’ll be there.”

“My hero!” Delly clasped her hands together and giggled.

And then Miss Perky started talking a mile-a-minute, relating a story about how she messed up a recipe on the air and Peeta jumped in to bail her out. It sounded familiar to Katniss, and she vaguely recalled Prim watching this segment, squealing about how adorable it was that Peeta stepped in and saying how good he was and what a good team they made.

“Oh man, Dells, we’ve been talking nonstop, and I’ve been so rude. I didn’t even officially introduce you to Katniss. Dells, this is Katniss Everdeen, my‒well, now our‒colleague.”

“Oh yes, the weather girl!” exclaimed Delly. Katniss didn’t bother to correct her on the title.

“Nice to meet you,” said Katniss politely.

“You, too.” Delly stretched out her small, stubby hand, and Katniss took it. In the process, her forearm was forced to brush against Peeta’s stomach. He met her eyes when she pulled back and shifted against the back of the elevator.

Delly settled back into her corner. “And Peeta’s…,” she mumbled something to herself, then trailed off in a fit of giggles.

“Dells,” Peeta hissed under his breath.

How did Peeta put up with this one? She had to be in her mid-twenties like them, but she acted about 12.

“Sorry! Nevermind…” Delly giggled again, and Peeta shot her some kind of death glare.

What the hell? Was the girl drunk, or had Peeta told her something?

“So, Katniss,” Delly looked over at her, and Katniss swore she glimpsed a concerned look from Peeta. When would the awkward elevator ride from hell end? Katniss wondered. It seemed to be taking about five times as long as usual. “I wanted to say that I really like your weather report. You’re so good!”

“Uh...thanks, Delly.”

“I’m such a fan of yours!”

What? She’d never had a ‘fan’ before, except for her sister.

“And those costumes are amazing!”

At least one person liked them. The prep team would be so pleased.

“I especially loved you as the rainbow and oh, the pumpkin!”

“Thanks, but it’s really my prep team’s doing.” Yes, she was giving them all the credit (blame).

“Well, whoever’s responsible, you’re the hot new item, Katniss!”

She was?

Katniss noticed that Peeta was biting his lip trying not to grin. It was a little bit sexy. But she couldn’t think like that. Peeta hated her (he was just being nice in Delly’s presence), and he had Delly…

Before the elevator ride ended, somehow, Delly managed to beg Katniss to spend some girl time with her (ugh, one of her most hated of activities) and show her around town, and for some unfathomable reason, she agreed.

Well, she’d only agreed to get Delly off her back, hoping to find a way out of it later. And it was one of those vague ‘I’ll check my schedule and get back to you sometime” kind of deals.

Of course, it had been no use looking to Peeta for help. When Katniss had suggested he might be better suited to showing Delly around, he’d said that he was old news to her and reminded Katniss that she was the ‘hot new item.’ He was enjoying this too much.

Fine, Peeta, torture me by thrusting your crazy girlfriend on me. Trying to get me to leap off the Channel 12 building?

Also, Katniss must have inadvertently used the word boyfriend because both Delly and Peeta reacted.

Then Delly turned to her. “Boyfriend? Oh my goodness, no! Don’t worry.” Don’t worry? “There’s never been anything romantic between this big knucklehead and me.”

Huh.

As they stepped off the elevator, Delly put a hand up to her face and stage whispered, “And I think...I think...Peeta’s madly in love with someone else…” The nut started giggling again, and Peeta threw up both of his arms in a shrug; although, his entire face and neck were red.

Well, that was interesting.

“Uh, I’ll see you later, Katniss,” said Peeta.

“See you later,” replied Katniss, and she watched Peeta and Delly walk off down the hall. She could hear that Delly was giggling again, and Peeta was poking her in the ribs, and they were basically wrestling each other the entire way.

* * *

Nearly two weeks had passed, and even though Delly liked them, Katniss’s costumes were becoming a problem. So, the station hired a man who was supposedly the rising star of the television fashion world.

Cinna was his name. No last name given. Just Cinna. Like Cher or Prince. And he certainly had star quality.

“So, you’re here to make me look pretty?” Katniss asked upon meeting him.

“I’m here to help you make an impression,” he said.

“For the ratings, right?”

“For starters.”

Katniss soon discovered that Cinna was a fashion genius. And he actually listened to her and cared about what she wanted. How refreshing!

She’d explained to Cinna that her costumes reflected the weather for the day or were seasonal, but he wanted to do things a little differently.

When Cinna showed Katniss his sketchbook of the designs he had in store for her, she was blown away. A smile crept up on her face as she flipped through the pages, each outfit seemingly more gorgeous and elegant than the last, and most importantly, they all looked comfortable.

Katniss had the feeling everything was going to be different now, and in a way, she was right. But not in the way she’d been expecting…

* * *

A week later, Haymitch gathered everyone around. “Well, team, unfortunately, Peeta’s co-anchor, Bristel went and got herself knocked up.”

Unable to help herself, Katniss turned to Peeta. “Yours?”

“No,” Peeta replied. “But not for lack of trying.” He winked at her, and she scowled back at him.

Peeta laughed boisterously. “I’m kidding, Katniss, geez. Bristel is happily married to Thom, and it’s only ever been professional between her and me.”

Katniss folded her arms and averted her eyes.

“I’m seriously flattered you think I’ve bedded every woman on the eastern seaboard, but I haven’t covered quite that much territory." 

Katniss rolled her eyes.

Haymitch loudly cleared his throat, then.

“Okay, you two, that’s enough,” barked Haymitch. “Stop flirting. I’m tryin’ to talk here.”

That one little word hit Katniss like a ton of bricks.

“We are not flirting, Haymitch!”

“Well...we’re flirting a little, Katniss,” said Peeta.

“You might be, not me.”

Haymitch had gone from annoyed to confused to amused in seconds. “Wow. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”

“What sexual tension?!” snapped Katniss defensively. Her eyes shot to Peeta, and he’d covered his mouth, obviously trying to hide that irritating little smirk of his and possibly a snicker.

“You know what, that’s not a bad angle,” Haymitch said, stroking his whiskers.

“What’s not a bad angle?” questioned Katniss. A glance at Peeta told her that he was curious, too.

“Picture this.” Haymitch waved his hand as if painting a picture. “Everdeen fills in for Evans as Mellark’s co-anchor, and we kinda hint at a forbidden offset romance. They banter, flirt a little on-air. The viewers’ll eat that shit right up with a spoon.”

“I love it!” exclaimed Effie.

But Katniss wasn’t happy.

Haymitch had to be screwing with her.

And she snapped. “I would never flirt with him. I hate him!”

As soon as she said it, she chanced a glance at Peeta, who looked genuinely upset. Had she hurt his feelings? All of a sudden, she felt terrible.

“Even better,” said Haymitch. “An enemies-to-lovers bit. The star-crossed lovers of Channel 12...”

“We are not star-crossed lovers!” snarled Katniss. She’d never been so insulted in her life.

“It’s television! It’s all about ratings and getting sponsors. If we don’t got those, we don’t got a show!”

Was he actually serious?

“Look, there are plenty of other stations reporting the news, so we gotta set ourselves apart somehow. We got Delly’s Cooking Corner coming up, but we need...more...”

And all we can do is make me look even more like a laughing stock? seethed Katniss.

She looked helplessly to the one person who’d be sympathetic, Cinna. But it seemed like he was also pondering the notion.

Haymitch cleared his throat and started again. “Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, we expected to have more time, but Evans just got put on bed rest, so we’re gonna need someone to fill in asap for her until we can find a temporary replacement.”

“How about it, then, sweetheart?” He looked to Katniss. “Could you sit in with Peeta as co-anchor? We can put a pin in at that other thing.”

Katniss sighed. “But I’m not an anchor,” she protested, still reeling over the star-crossed lovers thing.

“It’s easy, sweetheart. All ya gotta do is read your lines. You can read, right? I mean, ya been reading the weather report.”

“Yes, I can read,” she gritted out.

“Good.” He smiled satisfactorily. “Then you’ll do it?”

“I’ll think about it!” And with that, she spun on her heel and stormed off.

***  
Katniss’s entire body was boiling, and she might’ve just gone and lost her job by flying off the handle like that, but she couldn’t help it. This was humiliating. She'd gone a ways before she faintly heard her name being called. By the time she registered who it was, he was already catching her by the arm.

“Katniss.”

It was Peeta.

Wordlessly, he led her off to his dressing room, took her inside, and closed the door. She took a look around. Peeta moved to face her, and she met his eyes.

“Can you believe this, Peeta? I mean, can you believe they want us to do this?”

She shook her head. “How are we supposed to…? I can’t pretend to be in love with you!”

Peeta stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned slightly away from her.

She grasped his sleeve and tugged. “Talk to them, Peeta, please. They’ll listen to you; you have influence.”

“Why should I, Katniss?” It wasn’t so much anger she heard in his voice as hurt.

“Because I can’t lose this job, Peeta. If I lose this job, my sister...I’ll…I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“You could always do as they want.”

“But it’s degrading! It’s...despicable!”

Peeta scoffed. “Being in love with me?”

“No! _No_ …,” she said more softly, “to have to...pretend to be.”

“Yeah, I imagine it’s the worst thing in the world you could be asked to do. And there’s no way you’d be able to do it because you hate me, right? You can’t even pretend to like me, can you?”

“I…”

“Look, Katniss, I don’t know what your situation is exactly, but are you telling me that you’d rather lose this job, despite how important you’ve told me it is to you, rather than pretend to be in love with me on the air?”

“That’s not…Peeta,” she said his name plaintively. “Try to understand.”

“I do understand, Katniss. You hate me and want nothing to do with me. Therefore, you have no interest in being my co-anchor, even temporarily, and you certainly can’t stand the thought of flirting with me for ratings.”

That was hardly the problem.

“I don’t…” Katniss sucked in a bit of air as she garnered her courage. “I don’t hate you, Peeta. I don’t even dislike you.”

“You don’t? Coulda fooled me.”

Katniss sighed. “Okay, yes, there were times when you made me angry, and yes, I formed judgments about you from the start, but I was...I was wrong.”

She’d been doing a lot of thinking about it lately, actually, and she’d finally realized why Peeta had gotten under her skin so much. It wasn’t because he was smug or a shameless flirt. And it wasn’t that she thought him vile. It was because she wished she could be more like him. She was jealous of him. Not of his popularity; she didn’t care about that, but of his freedom at the station and his way with words, his ability to express exactly what he was thinking articulately. It was the kind of power that could move people, sway them to your side.

And then there was the small matter of her attraction to him. It scared her. She wasn’t the type to have relationships and certainly not with a co-worker. And so, whenever she felt that stirring inside, she picked a fight with him, to push him away.

“I was wrong about you, Peeta,” she emphasized. “I was judgmental and prideful and immature, and to make it up to you, I was wondering if...if maybe you’d like to have coffee with me.”

Peeta’s lips parted, a small exhale escaping. He closed his mouth and put on a solemn expression. “I suppose you expect me to forgive your behavior and jump at the chance to have coffee with you.”

Katniss one-arm shrugged. “If you want.”

“Well, Katniss, I’m not that easy.” He was fighting it, but he knew he was losing the battle as a small crept onto his lips. Still, he couldn’t let her off the hook so easily. “You’re gonna have to do a little more than that.”

She exhaled in mild frustration. “Peeta, will you just‒” But before they could argue further, she leaned up and pressed her lips against his.

Gripping the collar of his shirt, she slanted her mouth over his, waiting for him to respond to her kisses. She was prepared to pull back if he pushed her away, but then she felt him soften beneath her hands.

“Like kiss me,” Peeta said on exhale, his chest rising and falling heavily. He leaned his forehead against hers and whispered, “Did you just kiss me, Everdeen?”

His breath tickled her nose, and his words made her want to laugh out loud, and she was just so happy right now that she did laugh. “No, Peeta, it was an illusion. You’re dreaming right now.”

Nuzzling his nose against hers, Peeta chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I am. Even so…”

He felt her trying to wriggle free, but he wasn’t going to let her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and leaned down to steal another kiss. This one felt slower, a gentle softness behind it as Peeta took his time exploring her mouth. His hands traveled up and down her back in soothing patterns, coaxing small sighs from her.

As they finally broke apart, Peeta nipped her upper lip and held her close.

“So,” he murmured against her lips, “I know the perfect place we could get married, but if it’s too soon for you, there’s a great coffee place near the park…”

Katniss laughed. He gave her a silly grin before pressing his lips to hers one more time.

“So, you’ll allow it?” he asked as he reluctantly leaned away.

“I’ll allow it,” she replied, a lovely blush painting her cheeks. “The coffee part, not getting married.”

“Oh, we’ll see, Everdeen.”

She laughed again. “You know, men are so easy.”

Peeta guffawed. “Hey, cut me some slack. I just found out the woman I’m crazy about doesn’t hate me, and to top it off, she kissed me. So yeah, I’m pretty psyched.”

With a slight tilt to her mouth, Katniss shook her head.

“So, coffee?” he suggested, lacing his fingers with hers.

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “Yeah, coffee.”

They started walking off, and that’s when Katniss recalled the event leading up to this. “Oh, but what about Haymitch and the others?”

“They can live without us for a bit. Not like they can do anything to their anchor and co-anchor for taking a coffee break. The station couldn’t run without us, after all.”

“Well, that’s still undecided on my part,” said Katniss.

“But you’ll think about it?”

Katniss laughed and leaned against his arm, giving his hand an optimistic squeeze. “Yeah, I will.”


End file.
